Fräulein Müller dropped back into the cushions with a sigh of satisfaction.
"Now all is well," she said. "I shall drive wiz you to the Frau Baronin's house and see you safe in. She ask me to fetch you, as I knew I could easy find you. Ach, sie ist die Liebenswürdigkeit selber, die, Frau Baronin!"
"You are her great friend?" Nora suggested, seeking something to say.
Fräulein Müller threw up her plump hands in the straining brown kid gloves and laughed.
"Nee, nee, liebes Kind, how should zat be? I am Fräulein Müller—old Fräulein Müller—and she is the Baronin von Arnim."
Perhaps Nora's look showed that the all-apparent distinction was not clear, for her companion went on with a soft chuckle:
"Zat is somezing you vill understand wiz ze time, my dear. Ze Baronin is von great person and I am von nobody. Zat is all. I am proud zat I haf brought a so nice English girl—and glad to haf been able to give ze daughter of my dear pupil so nice a place. I am sure you will be very happy."
Nora's arched brows contracted for a minute. Something in Fräulein Müller's tone or words ruffled her—she was not quite sure why. The little woman was so obviously and naïvely impressed with the glories of Nora's new position and with the greatness and splendour of the "Baronin," of whom she spoke with almost bated breath, that Nora's self-importance was somewhat wounded. Besides which, she regarded both matters as decidedly "unproven." The "Baronin," she felt sure, was a snobbish person, probably very stout and ponderous, and as for her splendour and greatness, it remained yet to be seen. Armorial bearings with a seven-pearled crown—after all, Nora knew very well that everybody was a count or a baron in Germany—and a bone-shaking brougham with a shabby footman proved nothing at all. Thus Nora expressed neither gratitude nor gratification, and her manner was perhaps more chilly than she intended, for her companion subsided into an abrupt silence, which lasted until the carriage drew up and the door was opened by the despised attendant.
"Now you are here!" she cried, springing out with surprising agility. "I vill come no further—my leetle étage is just round the corner. In a day or two I vill venture to pay respects on the Baronin and see how all goes wiz you. Until then—lebewohl!"
Much to Nora's relief, she was not embraced a second time. A warm squeeze of the hand, which seemed, somehow, to express a slight "hurtness," and the stumpy little figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving Nora to face her destiny alone.